


bigger on the inside (or, five times jack surprises the doctor)

by wave_of_sorrow



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Sex, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Oral Sex, five things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-03
Updated: 2012-07-03
Packaged: 2017-11-09 02:24:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/450228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wave_of_sorrow/pseuds/wave_of_sorrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Exactly what it says on the tin. Set somewhere between The Doctor Dances and Boom Town.</p>
            </blockquote>





	bigger on the inside (or, five times jack surprises the doctor)

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for and posted at wintercompanions on lj.

“Welcome to the TARDIS,” the Doctor says, and he doesn’t sound like he means it.

Jack looks around, and, dumbly, he says, “Much bigger on the inside.”

“You’d better be,” the Doctor says sharply.

Jack can feel his face fall, even as he tries to keep smiling, because he’s not sure that he is.

i.

“Rose, get down!” Jack yells, and she ducks almost immediately and covers her head with her hands as the tree to her left is blasted into splinters.

“I swear this used to be one of the most peaceful planets in all the galaxies,” the Doctor says, and sounds genuinely perplexed, and under different circumstances the look on his face would probably make Jack grin.

“Doctor!” he shouts instead, and tries to shelter Rose with his body, and the Doctor looks at them like he’s only now realising they’re there.

“Right!” he says, and claps his hands together once. “Back to the TARDIS, quickly as we can!”

It happens too fast for Jack to warn him, and even if he could he doesn’t think the Doctor would listen to him, not like Rose, and so he launches himself in front of the Doctor to take the blast intended for him.

“Oh,” he says, and watches the Doctor’s eyes widen as pain shoots through his shoulder and he pitches forward into strong arms.

“Jack!” Rose shouts, and he’s sure there’s more going on, more voices and frantic movement and his feet dragging on the ground, but it’s hard to keep track with everything sliding out of focus. The next thing that really registers with him is that he’s lying on his side sheltered behind a few trees, and Rose’s small hand cradling his head and her frightened eyes watching the Doctor widen the tear in Jack’s shirt to get a good look at the wound.

The Doctor presses his fingertips to Jack’s shoulder blade and he can feel blood trickle down his back, and Rose looks at Jack’s face instead and lets him squeeze her hand so hard she gasps with it.

“How bad is it?” she asks, and gets no response.

“Stupid ape,” the Doctor mutters, and behind him Jack can hear the buzzing of the sonic screwdriver, and his shoulder throbs relentlessly.

He forces himself to let go of Rose’s hand, and she tries to surreptitiously flex her fingers behind her back, and through a strained grin he says, “You’re supposed to say thanks, Doc.”

“I’ve told you not to call me that, Captain,” the Doctor says, and Jack can practically hear him scowl. “We need to get you back to the TARDIS. Rose, give me your scarf.”

She unwinds the scarf from around her neck and hands it over without hesitation, and Jack twists his head so he can kiss the inside of her wrist, and the smile she offers him is unsteady.

When the Doctor first pushes against the wound Jack jerks away with a hiss and a growl, and the Doctor sternly says, “Hold still.”

Jack twitches and grinds his teeth together as the Doctor winds the scarf around his shoulder in a makeshift bandage, and Rose drags her knuckles across his creased forehead and murmurs soft words he doesn’t quite catch over the ringing in his ears.

“Alright,” the Doctor says, and hoists Jack into a sitting position, “let’s go.”

The walk back to the TARDIS is short but laborious, with the Doctor half-dragging, half-carrying Jack for most of it and Rose torn between watching their backs and keeping an eye out for their goal. Jack spends the entirety of it trying to resist the urge to scream or pass out, and the Doctor tells him it’s just a few more steps.

It all goes a bit blurry then, and he closes his eyes for a moment.

\--

Rose is saying, “Jack, stay with me!”

He blinks his eyes open to find himself on a padded examination table in a bright and unfamiliar room that he assumes to be the TARDIS medbay, and Rose is crying and his cheek stings. “’m here,” he tries to reassure her, and she slaps him again when his eyes slide shut.

“ _Jack_ ,” she says, and there’s blood on her hands and soaked into her shirt and smeared across her forehead. “Hurry up, Doctor!”

“Alright, alright,” the Doctor says from somewhere to the right, and a few cupboards slam and something clatters to the floor. “This should help with the pain,” he says, and there’s the smell of disinfectant and then he’s jabbing a needle into Jack’s arm, “and this will close the wound.”

There’s a strange buzzing sound behind him again, not unlike that of the sonic screwdriver, and Jack’s shoulder starts to prickle and itch, and Rose visibly relaxes.

“You’ll be okay in no time,” she promises him, and pets his hair, and as the pain begins to subside he drifts off into an exhausted, chemical-induced doze.

\--

The next time Jack opens his eyes he’s covered with a soft blanket, and the Doctor is sitting in a chair beside his bed reading a book, and there are dark stains on his jumper. Jack opens his mouth to speak, and ends up coughing, and the Doctor helps him sit up and holds a cup of water for him to sip from.

“Easy,” the Doctor says, and rubs slow circles at the base of Jack’s skull. “There you go. You’ll be good as new in no time at all.”

Once they have him settled again the Doctor checks him over with the sonic screwdriver, and then takes his pulse by hand for good measure, and Jack blurts, “I’m sorry.”

The Doctor looks at him and frowns, and asks, “What for?”

“This,” Jack says, and reaches up to touch his injured shoulder only to have the Doctor catch his hand and lay it on top of the covers.

“That was a bit stupid, yeah,” the Doctor says, and his hand is still curled around Jack’s.

“I frightened Rose,” Jack says, and the Doctor nods.

“Yes, you did,” he says, “but you also saved her life.”

Jack scowls at their joined hands, and says, “I got blood all over her, and her scarf is probably ruined beyond repair.” Almost as an afterthought, he adds, “So’s your jumper.”

The Doctor pats Jack’s thigh through the blanket, and says, “She’ll get over it. All that matters to Rose is that you’re alive.” Jack looks at him, and the Doctor isn’t smiling but his expression is softer than usual, somehow. “As for me,” he says, and opens his book again as he settles back into his chair, “I never really liked this jumper to begin with, so you’ve really done me a favour.”

Jack watches him read for a moment, and then he asks, “What’re you doing?”

“I’m reading, Captain,” the Doctor says, and doesn’t look up. “You should try to get some rest.”

“But,” Jack says, and then stops, and the Doctor sighs and puts his book down again.

“You did well, lad,” he says, and cups Jack’s face in his palm, and his skin smells like dried blood and antiseptic. “Now go to sleep, it’s been a long day.”

Jack can’t read his expression, so he closes his eyes and rubs his cheek against the Doctor’s hand, and falls asleep.

ii.

“I don’t know how you put up with him, sometimes,” Jack says, sitting on the floor in the control room and leaning back against the TARDIS. “I hope he knows how lucky he is to have you, beautiful.”

“Captain?” the Doctor asks, and Jack jumps violently.

“ _Jesus,_ give a guy some warning next time,” he says, and presses his hand to his chest to feel his heart beat far too fast.

The Doctor scowls, and says, “You do know this is my ship, yeah?”

“Yeah, I do,” Jack says, and scrambles to his feet, suddenly awkward and sheepish. “Sorry.”

“Stop apologising,” the Doctor says, and grins when Jack has to visibly swallow down another _sorry._ “What’re you doing in here, then?”

“I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d keep the TARDIS some company,” Jack says, and watches his fingers trace patterns across the edge of the console.

“You were talking to her,” the Doctor says, and when Jack looks at him he isn’t sure what he sees.

“You said she’s sentient,” he says defiantly, and hates himself for feeling like there’s anything to justify here. “I’ve never been the most skilled of telepaths, but I can sort of feel her nudging at the back of my mind. It makes the sleepless nights a lot easier, having company.”

He looks away again, and the Doctor’s scowl deepens and then softens, and he says, “She likes you, you know.”

“Sorry?” Jack asks, and stops his fondling of the controls.

“The TARDIS, she likes you,” the Doctor says, and his grin is warmer and less manic than usual.

Jack smiles, and says, “I like her, too.”

He makes to leave, then, and he gets as far as the doorway to the corridor leading to his bedroom before the Doctor calls him back.

“Jack,” he says, and Jack can count the times he’s used his name instead of _Captain_ or _lad_ on one hand, “next time you can’t sleep, come and find me.”

Jack doesn’t turn around, and he says, “It’s fine. You don’t have to do this.”

“I know,” the Doctor says, and Jack thinks that’s probably the most he’ll ever get from him.

“I wouldn’t want to wake you,” he says, and it sounds like a feeble protest even to his own ears.

“That’s alright, you won’t,” the Doctor says, and Jack can hear the grin in his voice. “Don’t need much sleep, me. Not like you lot, sleeping half your lives away.”

Jack has to smile, and he looks at the Doctor when he says, “Thanks, Doc.”

“Any time,” the Doctor says, and Jack’s taken another few steps before he adds, “I do, you know.”

Jack turns back around, and says, “Sorry?”

“Know how lucky I am,” the Doctor says, and he’s not smiling but he looks kinder than Jack has ever seen him, “I do.”

Jack looks at him, and doesn’t know what to say, and then the Doctor makes a shooing motion and he has to grin. “Night, old man.”

“Oi!” he says, and Jack laughs as he makes his way to bed, and he never hears the Doctor tell the TARDIS to watch out for him.

iii.

The TARDIS lurches and shakes, and the three of them desperately try to find something to hold on to, and if this is landing then Jack doesn’t want to know what crashing feels like.

“Why don’t you recalibrate the extrapolators?” he asks, and Rose rubs her tailbone from where she landed on the metal grating, and the Doctor blinks at him.

“Excuse me?” he says, and Jack shifts on his feet a little.

“That would make landings go a bit more smoothly, am I right?” he says, and feels uncomfortable with the Doctor looking at him like he is.

“It would, yeah,” the Doctor says, and looks vaguely taken aback. “Can’t exactly do it on my own, though. Needs more than one pair of hands for the job, you see.”

Jack gives him his best suggestive grin, and asks, “Are you asking, Doctor?”

“Why, are you offering, Captain?” he shoots back, and looks amused.

“Please say yes, Jack,” Rose cuts in, and prods a fairly impressive bruise on her elbow, “I’m not sure how many more landings like this my bones can take.”

“Oi, are you complaining about my driving?” the Doctor asks, and looks put out.

“Nope, just your parking,” Rose says, and sounds entirely unapologetic.

“Alright, alright,” Jack says, and takes her hand to kiss her knuckles, “Why don’t you go and make the most of a bit of downtime and I help the Doctor fix the old girl?”

“Oi, the TARDIS doesn’t need fixing,” the Doctor complains, and Rose and Jack grin at each other. “Just needs a slight adjustment, that’s all.”

“If you say so, Doc,” Jack says, and Rose catches her tongue between her teeth, and then she’s disappearing down the main corridor with a barely suppressed giggle. “So,” Jack says, and turns to the Doctor, “where do we start?”

The Doctor is gruff and stand-offish in explaining how to repair the TARDIS, and Jack responds with an eager grin and attentive nods, and by the time he’s got the hang of it they’re working together quickly and efficiently.

When they’re done they’re both covered in grease and Jack has a nasty burn on one forearm, and the Doctor claps him on the shoulder and says, “Well done, lad.”

“I did my best,” Jack says with a smile that’s more of a grimace, and ducks his head. “I know I’m not the most skilled person, but I’m glad if I can help.”

“What sort of rubbish is that, then?” the Doctor asks, and squeezes Jack’s shoulder where all that’s left of a gaping wound is a pinpoint scar. “You did a good job, so stop talking yourself down. Now go wash your hands and then meet me in the medbay so I can take a look at your arm.”

Jack looks at him, and hesitates a moment, and then says, “Alright,” and makes his way to the medbay.

iv.

By the time the Doctor joins him Jack’s been sitting on the padded exam table for a few minutes, and he’s had plenty of time to revisit the last time he was here. “I wasn’t planning on being back so soon,” he jokes, and the Doctor’s grin is faint and short-lived.

“Right, then,” he says, and roots through a few cupboards and drawers for what he needs, and then comes to stand between Jack’s legs. The Doctor picks up his arm, and Jack’s sure there’s an inappropriate comment to be made here, but he can’t for the life of him think of one.

He hisses at the sting and burn of the disinfectant, and when the Doctor holds a buzzing device to the burn he asks, “What’s that?”

“Dermal regenerator,” the Doctor explains, and Jack watches his skin go from blistered and raw to pink and shiny in the space of a few moments.

“That what you used for the,” Jack gestures at his shoulder with his free hand, and the Doctor nods. “I see,” he says, and by the time the Doctor switches the dermal regenerator off his skin is fully healed.

“There,” he says, and drops Jack’s arm again, and looks at Jack’s face for the first time since he walked in. “Good as new.”

“Thanks,” Jack says, and they’re exactly on eye-level like this, and he kisses the Doctor before his brain has time to catch up and convince him not to.

“What was that for?” the Doctor asks, and he looks slightly baffled.

Jack shrugs, and feels more nervous than he’s felt in decades, and says, “Nothing particular.”

“Right,” the Doctor says, and frowns slightly, and doesn’t step out from between Jack’s legs. 

Jack grins, and says, “Don’t worry, I’m not going to rip your clothes off and have my wicked way with you.”

“What makes you think I’d let you, lad?” the Doctor asks, and squeezes the back of Jack’s neck, and his grin is filthier than Jack has ever seen it.

“I don’t,” he says, and it comes out lower and more breathless than he intended, and he shifts in his seat to ease the rising pressure of his erection pushing against his fly.

“Is this turning you on, Captain?” the Doctor asks, and drags his thumb down the side of Jack’s neck, and he sounds amused.

“Yes,” Jack admits, and shudders with excited embarrassment, and the Doctor’s hand tightens around his neck to pull him into a kiss that’s more tongue and teeth than lips.

It isn’t until they’re shirtless and lightly grinding against each other and Jack’s head is tipped back to expose his throat that he second-guesses what’s happening. He stiffens, and the Doctor murmurs against his pulse point, “Shh, relax. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Jack tries, but even so he shivers and twitches in the Doctor’s arms as teeth rake down his throat and a tongue soothes the tingling skin. The underside of his chin is kissed, and his jaw nipped, and his hips jerk forward into the Doctor’s.

“Not used to not being in control, are you?” the Doctor asks, and sounds strangely awed.

“No,” Jack says, and lets his eyes slide shut as the Doctor undoes his jeans, and they both know it isn’t about not being in control as much as it’s about not _wanting_ to be in control.

“Why am I not surprised?” the Doctor chuckles as he discovers Jack’s lack of underwear, and Jack grins and blindly nudges at his mouth for another kiss.

His groan when a hand closes around his cock and tugs is muffled by the Doctor’s mouth, and before he can so much as reach for the Doctor’s trousers he’s pushed back onto the exam table. He moans at the tight, rhythmic suction on his cock, and cranes his neck to watch until he comes far sooner than expected and the Doctor holds his hips down and swallows.

He’s left panting and disoriented after, and the Doctor rubs his hands up and down Jack’s flanks and says, “Why am I also not surprised that you’re spectacularly loud when you come?”

Jack feels himself flush, and he swallows against his dry throat, and says, “Sorry.”

“Wasn’t complaining,” the Doctor says and squeezes his thigh, and Jack can hear the smile in his voice.

He struggles to sit up, and kisses the Doctor again, and then says, “Let me give you a hand with that.” He presses his hand to the Doctor’s fly, and adds, “Or a mouth.”

Jack grins at the eye roll the lame joke gets him, and drops to his knees in front of the exam table and gets the Doctors trousers and underwear out of the way as quickly as possible. The Doctor hums when Jack strokes his cock a few times and licks the wet tip, and then groans as he’s taken all the way in. He cups Jack’s face in his palm to feel his jaw work, and watches his eyes flutter shut as he languorously sucks him, and a particularly wicked swirl of Jack’s tongue makes his hips buck and Jack moan.

Jack pulls back, and a string of pre-come clings to his lower lip, and he licks it away and says, “You can fuck my mouth, if you like.”

The Doctor’s hand twists into his hair, and he pushes his cock back into Jack’s open mouth, and with Jack moaning around him like he is it doesn’t take very long for him to come. Jack makes to pull back, but the Doctor’s hand tightens in his hair, and he says, “Didn’t take you for a spitter, Captain.”

Jack narrows his eyes at him, and shudders as he forces himself to swallow, and when the Doctor lets him up he sticks his tongue out at him and pulls a face.

The Doctor laughs, and pets his hair, and says, “Good lad.”

Jack hums, and feels more pleased with himself than he’ll ever admit, and by the time they make it back to the control room they find Rose already waiting for them and she blushes slightly when she takes in their appearances.

v.

“Fuck,” Jack says for what has to be the tenth time in the past five minutes, and the Doctor huffs and bites his back.

“In case you haven’t noticed, I am,” he says, and pushes his hips forward to demonstrate his point.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Jack says again, and clenches around the Doctor’s cock. It gets him a low chuckle and a hard thrust, and he fists his hands into the duvet and arches his back as the Doctor hits his prostate.

This isn’t the first time they have sex, but it’s the first time they do it in a proper bed, and Jack spends the majority of it with his face in a pillow in a futile attempt to muffle the sounds he’s making.

It’s drawn-out and slow, the Doctor’s movements hard and deliberate, and by the time he takes pity on Jack and takes his cock in hand he’s chewing the pillow and bucking helplessly. It doesn’t take more than half a dozen strokes before he’s crying out and coming onto mattress below him, and the Doctor growls and follows with his fingers digging into Jack’s hips.

They collapse into a sticky mess, panting and uncomfortably hot, and Jack drapes a leg and an arm across the Doctor’s chest and tucks his head under his chin. He can feel the Doctor shake with silent laughter, and scowls up at him and asks, “What?”

“Nothing,” the Doctor says, and kisses the top of Jack’s head and tugs him closer. “You just take me by surprise sometimes, that’s all.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment,” Jack says around a yawn, and is fast asleep and drooling on the Doctor’s chest within minutes.

“It is, lad,” the Doctor says, and pulls the duvet up around them. “It absolutely is.”


End file.
